


On A Hot Summer Night

by jennandblitz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beach Holidays, Beach Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Not Canon but It Fits?, Not-Not Canon, Sirius Black Runs His Filthy Mouth Off, So Much Dirty Talk, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-07-20 06:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19987594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: “On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?"-MeatloafThere is only one wolf Sirius Black will submit to, and it’s only to the blaring chords of hard rock superstars.





	On A Hot Summer Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HP Drizzle Fest 2019. 
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta FivePips. Thank you so much to the mods of this wonderful fest. I have never squealed like I did when I saw this prompt. I love this song so much, and to the anon who prompted this - THANK YOU! I hope you like it! 
> 
> Also, you should definitely listen to the song that this is based from. Check it out here!

_This is idyllic_ , Remus decides as he stretches his legs out and buries his toes in the sand. Sirius turns next to him and presses his cheek into Remus’ thigh, his gaze drifting out along the horizon. The sun is below the horizon now, but the sky is still stained orange and pink like daubs of paint, gradually sinking into midnight blue. The tide is halfway out and gently lapping at the sun-bleached sand that feels as if it’s been hit with a warming charm. James and Lily are back in the beachside cabin the four had borrowed from the Potters after another day of pure bliss on the Cornish coast. There is nothing at all to worry about except for wonderful things like: when it is acceptable to have another Butterbeer, or should I have that second scone, or do you think it’s possible to have _too much_ sex?

"Why is it still so warm?" Remus muses, pressing a hand to his own forehead. He’s grumbling, but doesn’t mean it really. The heat of the summer night is far too nice. 

Sirius chuckles and rolls onto his back to stare up at Remus. The moon is waxing, nearly full but not quite full enough to prickle across the back of Remus’ neck. Tonight it’s just a beautiful backdrop for the way Sirius’ hair, wild with seawater, still manages to shine blue in the light. 

"Because it’s the summer, Moons." Sirius sits up and Remus shifts his legs now that Sirius isn’t laying on them. He’s grateful for the return of feeling to his lower extremities, but he’d much rather have Sirius against him. "In December you were complaining you’d never be able to feel your toes again it was so cold."

Remus smiles sardonically and sinks back onto the hot sand. "I just like complaining."

"I could’ve told you that." Sirius stands, his toes sinking into the sand. Remus tilts his head and watches the way Sirius’ skin seems to glow in the moonlight. Even after two days at the beach, running around with James, rolling in the sand, sprawling on the decking, Sirius is still utterly ethereal thanks to his sunscreen charms and Remus feels like he’s hit the jackpot every time he looks at him. 

"It’s lovely though, isn’t it?" Sirius stretches his arms over his head and ruffles a hand through his hair, the words twisting slightly as he speaks. Remus tries not to watch the way the movement threads down Sirius’ torso in a gentle pull of his abdominals. He fails miserably. 

"Yeah," Remus agrees as he stands himself. Taken by the sight of it all, the way Sirius looks, the way Sirius is looking down at him, the moonlight, the heat of the day, Remus casts around for something to transfigure. He’s not the best at it, but because Sirius is a hopeless romantic, he’s perfected one particular spell.

Remus finds a tuft of grass a few feet away from them and plucks a cluster of it with one hand whilst retrieving his wand from his pocket with the other. A quick spell muttered and he’s holding a half-dozen red roses.

Sirius is grinning when Remus turns back to him, one hand on his hip in idle elegance, one eyebrow raised because he loves nothing more than Remus’ attention and affection. The late night is still warm, heat still rising from the sand. Sirius looks like a mirage with the landscape unfolding around him, smiling, confident, beckoning Remus to the rocks like a siren.

"On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?" Remus says around a grin, quoting a song oft spoken between them, a song Remus had laughed about until Sirius had gotten all breathy in his ear and said _will he offer me his teeth_ in bed one night. It feels like the song is theirs now, some surefire shortcut to bliss. 

"Will he offer me his mouth?" Sirius retorts in their well-worn script, but the words are still as powerful as ever, something like acceptance between them, the back and forth of their trust and willingness and submission to each other.

"Yes," Remus breathes, loping forward over the hot sand, the warm air growing only warmer as he closes the gap between them and leans up a fraction to seek out Sirius’ kisses. Sirius lets him press against his lips in one open-mouthed kiss before he tips back a little.

"Will he offer me his teeth?" Sirius closes his fingers around the roses and Remus’ fingers around them, lifting them to his nose to inhale the scent. Remus presses forward and slides his mouth across the swell of Sirius’ cheek, one hand still holding the roses. There’s a thorn from the stem of a rose easing gently into his palm but it doesn’t matter because Sirius is right there with his fingers twined with Remus’ and his mouth like a beacon in the night.

"Yes." More like a hiss now, as Remus sets those teeth in offering against the line of Sirius’ jaw, his alabaster skin that tastes of salt and sun and the indescribable warmth that assails Sirius even in the winter. 

Sirius is smiling. His hand is on Remus’ shoulder, because Remus might be the wolf but Sirius is the one in control. "Will he offer me his jaws?"

"Yes," says Remus before he closes his mouth around the tender flesh of Sirius’ neck, teeth sinking into porcelain, tongue lashing over his hammering pulse. Sirius’ thumb flutters over the hinge of Remus’ jaw to feel it working as he presses closer, the gap between them only millimetres now. Remus’ free hand skitters reverently over Sirius’ torso, the angles and lines he has already committed to memory. 

Sirius gasps at the bite, a sharp thing at the back of his throat that lets Remus know he is toeing the line of pleasure and pain just as he likes. Remus knows Sirius will take him along the precipice of that line very shortly too. Sirius’ free hand lingers at the join of Remus’ neck and jaw, happy to feel his throat working, jaw moving, breath fluttering, before it slides up through his salt-curled hair. "Will he offer me his hunger?"

Remus presses forward, his erection far too bloody obvious as it juts into Sirius’ thigh in a way that makes him know just how much Remus hungers for him. The answer always feels superfluous by this point; they both know but the delivery is important, the tenor of their voices over the soft crash of the sea against the sand. "Yes."

" _Again,_ " says Sirius, shifting to reach down and circle his skilful fingers over Remus’ erection just as Remus becomes all too aware of the similar hardness pressing into his own hip. "Will he offer me his hunger?"

‘Yes," but it’s a moan through the clench of Remus’ jaw, the guard of his teeth, the pull at his muscles to cant his hips forward and seek out delicious friction and ecstasy at the hands of Sirius Black.

"And will he starve without me?" Sirius’ lips ghost over the high point of Remus’ cheek and Remus can feel the smile across them. Sirius’ fingers ease under the waist of Remus’ shorts, scratch lightly over the sandy curls there, and close with confidence around the base of his cock. His other hand is still holding the rose stems, braced at their sides. It’s a familiar dance, but here, on the beach, in the heat, the moon hanging over them - beautiful, for once - it’s all together more virulent and the taste of it all lodges in Remus’ throat.

"Yes!" His hips jerk forwards, cock in the tight circle of Sirius’ fingers, slick with the wordless, wandless spell he’s perfected. 

Sirius hums happily, rocking gently on the balls of his feet to rub his own prick against the cord of Remus’ thigh because Remus finds he’s almost pinned under the intensity of the moment, his need for Sirius, the need for his _yes,_ one hand over Sirius’ spine, the other still wound around roses. Sirius’ mouth presses against his ear, his tongue sliding in a deliciously slow curl around the shell of it. His voice is barely a whisper. "And does he love me?"

"Yes." Remus’ voice is a distant shiver into the night air. Of course he does.

"Yes," Sirius mirrors, a hot puff of breath over Remus’ ear that makes his knees quake.

"On a hot summer night-" Remus swallows shallowly around the words and gestures with their twinned fingers around the roses- "would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?"

Sirius tips back enough for his silver-grey eyes to lock with Remus’. Eye contact feels like a thousand fingers over Remus’ skin with the way Sirius looks at him. Sirius slowly tilts his chin back and swallows before letting his eyes flutter shut and his fingers fall from the rose stems. "Yes."

Remus smiles wide, drops the roses at their feet and leans forward to press a hot, open kiss against the swell of Sirius’ porcelain throat. "I bet you say that to all the boys."

Sirius laughs, like he always does at that sentiment because they both know that this is _it_ for both of them. Then he’s on Remus, ducking his head to capture his lips in a kiss, hands going to his shoulders to push them both down into the sand. Remus can hear the opening notes of the song in his head as he sinks into the warm sand and Sirius straddles his thighs. Remus is grinning into the kiss, his tongue curling to meet Sirius’ outside of their mouths, his hands stroking in broad swathes over Sirius’ thighs, their torsos pressed together. A trickle of sweat runs down the dip of Remus’ spine at the heat of the air around them. Sirius’ body heat battles against the close heat of the summer night and only makes Remus’ head spin more.

Sirius kneels up, still astride Remus, his sweat-damp thighs pressing down, his chest pressed tight against Remus’, the short rise and fall of it like the heatwaves rising from the sand. He reaches down between them to press the heel of his hand to Remus’ cock and Remus is already so hard it’s nearly painful. Remus moans into Sirius’ perfect mouth and tilts his head to deepen the kiss, desperate for him.

"They said this bit of beach was disillusioned, you know…" Sirius breathes, nipping at Remus’ lower lip. He seems able to read Remus’ mind at times like this, or maybe it’s just the way Remus’ cock is pressing, insistent, hot and hard, against Sirius’ thigh and he can’t quite keep his hips still in the constant, agonising search for friction.

"Did they?" Remus asks, trying to go for a wry smile when really it feels and probably looks like a feral baring of his teeth. He has played at being the wolf for the past few minutes and now Sirius is looming above him with the column of his pale, tender throat glinting in the moonlight and he _wants_. Sirius’ pink tongue slides out to wet his lower lip as Remus hooks his fingers through the waistband of Sirius’ swim shorts and levers them over his erection—fuck, every millimetre of this boy is beautiful—and down to his knees. Sirius somehow manages to make it look elegant as he lifts one knee then the other to shove them away. Remus hopes they don’t get taken off by the incoming tide, but then, Sirius would have to stay naked and that wouldn’t be a _huge_ problem.

Remus strokes the flats of his palms over Sirius’ thighs and the crease of his hips. Sirius is responsive and smiles into their languid, open-mouthed kiss, hissing softly as Remus’ hot fingers close around his cock. Everything is so warm, heated and slick with sweat and the salty rime that comes with the sea air and the humidity. Remus can’t get enough of it, the scent of the beach around them, Sirius’ scent, the smell of his hair and his sunblock charms and his sweat and his arousal. With reverence, sprawled at the altar of Sirius, Remus pumps his cock and twists his wrist and lets his thumb drag over the slit to gather up the precome beading there.

Sirius throws his head back and tangles his fingers tight in Remus’ hair, grinding against him, into the heat of his charmed-slick fingers. Remus can resist the pale temptation of moonlit throat no longer, leaving bruising kisses and sharp nips of his teeth over his flesh. Sirius has a habit of molten-silver dirty talk, hissing from the corners of his mouth like cigarette smoke and he does it now; soft little susurrations of _yeah, fuck, Moony, you’re so good at that, your fucking fingers, yeah, oh yeah. I want them inside me Moons, I want your talented fucking fingers right inside me—_

Remus can’t deny it, can he? He nips at the hollow of Sirius’ throat and tongues at the honey-sweet dip of his clavicle where sweat has gathered. He lets his fingers trail over Sirius’ cock and down past his balls, tracing a sweet-light line down to his hole, charmed slick fingers petting between his cheeks. Everything is so _warm_ , Remus is warm, Sirius is warm, his body is warm and welcoming and molten when Remus pushes one finger into him. 

"Oh Godric, _yeah_ , Moony, _yes—"_ Sirius whispers, turning his face into Remus’ hair and pressing his hips forward against the welcome intrusion of Remus’ finger. Pushing, writhing deeper, twisting and turning, pressing over that little bundle of nerves that make Sirius’ nerves spangle and twitch and tighten. Sirius gasps and grinds down against Remus’ knuckles pressed against that sensitive space behind his balls. "Right there—right _fucking_ there, Moony, oh yeah, oh yeah."

Remus grins against Sirius’ neck, laving his tongue in slow, looping coils over already bruising flesh, practically feeling the breath rushing down Sirius’ throat into his lungs in glorious, debauched moans. "Yeah, shit, keep talking, Padfoot, keep talking."

"Yeah," Sirius’ voice sounds warm with a smile, almost teasing, as Remus eases a second finger into him. "Yeah, you’re so fucking good at that, your fingers feel so good fucking me, Moony. Get me— _fuck, ah, there! Right there_ —wide open for you, for your glorious fucking cock—"

Godric, it’s _so warm_ , the heat is rising around them in blurry little waves, making Remus feel lightheaded and half-conscious because Sirius is pressed against him and he’s _so warm_ and tight around Remus’ fingers. His breath is in plumes across Remus’ hair and his throat is so _warm_ beneath Remus’ mouth. Remus is panting mouthfuls of humid air against blooming purple bites on Sirius’ neck, trying to concentrate on the feel of Sirius, tight and clenching, around his fingers, yielding to him because Sirius _wants him_.

"Oh shit, Sirius," Remus blurts, twisting and pressing his fingers, sliding in and out of Sirius’ warmth—he’s so fucking _warm_ —and Sirius reaches down to palm over Remus’ cock, desperately hard and still beneath his shorts. Three fingers now, petting briefly at Sirius’ rim, slick and _hot_ with charmed lube, before delving back into the silk-heat of him. Remus is sure there is sweat trickling down Sirius’ back because it’s so _warm_ but the idea just turns Remus on even more, the two of them just _warm, warm, warm._

Sirius fumbles with the waistband of Remus’ shorts and curls his fingers around Remus’ cock. His other hand is still in Remus’ hair, holding Remus against the crook of his neck, that throat he’d offered the wolf with the red roses and the moon is high in the sky but Remus is all Remus and he still wants to devour Sirius alive. 

"Merlin, I want you inside me, Rem. Filling me right up— _ah, fuck, fuck_ —just fucking right into me and I’m fucking burning up for you, I want your cock all hot inside me—" Remus slides his fingers from Sirius’ arse and Sirius shoves at Remus’ shorts, still muttering— " _Shit_ , I’m so hot for you Moony, so fucking hot, I need you inside me right now— _oh, fuck!_ " 

Remus lifts his hips so that Sirius can sink down onto him, spreading his knees wider in the sun-bleached, still warm— _so warm_ —sand, taking Remus in further, deeper, drawing him in, in, in to tight heat and velvet grip. Remus hisses out a long breath into Sirius’ throat as Sirius rolls his hips, rocking and angling so the tip of Remus’ cock strikes his prostate like a flint to tinder with every fuck. Remus scrambles at the planes of Sirius to twist a handful of fingers into his hair and grip him tight. His other hand moors around Sirius’ neck, thumb in the hollow of his throat just to feel him breathing and his heart hammering as Sirius envelopes all of his senses.

"Yes, oh sweet Mer—yes, Moony, I love your fucking cock. You always fill me up, it hurts so good, oh." 

"Keep talking Padfoot, oh God, oh God—" Remus peels back from Sirius’ throat, which is littered with teeth impressions and livid little suck marks from Remus’ mouth and the shape of his breath there, to see Sirius with his head thrown back. Remus’ fingers are clenched into the ink-swirl mass of hair at the crown of Sirius’ head and his lip is nearly as bruised as his neck for how hard he’s biting down on it between those murmurs of filth into the hot summer air. His hand is stroking over his own cock in perfect timing to their fucking. Remus would feel bad he isn’t stroking Sirius himself—he seems unable to move his hands from Sirius’ hair and his neck—if it wasn’t for the fact Sirius Sirius looks so glorious debauched like that.

"You fuck me so good, Moons, always so good. I can never get enough of you inside me." 

Remus thinks of their song and of giving his jaws, his teeth, his _love_ to Sirius. He thinks in return of Sirius offering the pale flesh of his throat and his _love_ too. It’s stupid, really, the song, but Remus’ heart constricts every time Sirius tips his chin back and trusts Remus so much. They are sweat-sheened and panting into hot, humid, salt-sea air. Sirius is moaning with every thrust and Remus is groaning with every thrust. He’s so close and it’s so _warm_. His whole body spangling with heat, like water so close to boiling point, on the verge of turning into steam and erupting. Remus is _so close_ and Sirius is _so warm_ clenched around him. 

"Whenever you want I’m yours, whatever you need, whatever bit of me you wanna fuck, you can, you can, oh _shit_ , _shit_ —I’m not gonna last long with your cock in me but I don’t want it to stop— _oh Merlin_ —you can do it whenever, you know. Wake me up in the middle of the night and fuck your come back into me from the time before, _again, and again_ —"

"Oh _fuck_ —" Remus comes with a sharp moan, his hips snapping upwards for a handful of thrusts, deep into the haven of Sirius’ velvet-silk warm-hot body. He sees the shapes of constellations and the waxing moon and the heat-lines from the sand and the pull of the tide in relief against his eyelids, tinged white-warm, white-hot by the insistent tremors through his limbs. He twists his fingers in Sirius’ hair and presses the thumb of his other hand over the hollow of Sirius’ throat to feel his breath, sudden and sharp.

Their moans seem to shimmer off the sand around them like the heat, like the way Sirius is practically _glowing_ in the moonlight, astride Remus, pressed against Remus with his hand on his own cock because Remus drives him _wild_. "Oh God, Sirius," Remus says with his first coherent thought, his first steady breath, still inside of Sirius with their hips pressed flush. Sirius is rocking against him like he can’t stay still, his hand over his cock, thumbing at the slit like Remus does when he jerks Sirius off.

Sirius drops his head right back to stare at the sky with glassy eyes and Remus thumbs lightly over the swell of his throat, torn between watching the euphoria unfold over Sirius’ face or watching the tip of his cock disappear between his fist over and over. "Oh Godric, I’m so close, Rem, I’m so close." Sirius’ teeth rake over his bottom lip and Remus twists his fingers into Sirius’ hair, pulling _just so_. " _Oh_ , fuck I’m gonna come—fucking myself on your cock, Moony, Godric, _shit._ "

Sirius’ come spills over his own fingers and onto Remus’ stomach, white-warm, white-hot, his body clenching around Remus’ still half-hard cock to make him squirm and hiss and moan. Sirius moans, his throat bobbing with a swallow, still grinding against him for a wealth of sensation as his hand still strokes himself over the parabola of his orgasm. Remus keeps his thumb pressing to the hollow of Sirius’ throat to feel his moans vibrating, coaxing him along until Sirius collapses into the breadth of Remus’ body, boneless and sated.

Remus disentangles his hand from Sirius’ hair and strokes down the ivory ladder-rungs of his spine. He presses his mouth to Sirius’ in a slow, languid, intimate kiss that tastes of the sea air and warm sand.

"I love you," Remus says as he leans back to gulp down a breath, muzzy and warm.

Sirius chuckles. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

**Author's Note:**

> This story/art is part of an anonymous fest: drizzle 2019. Reveals will be in mid-october. Please do not repost anywhere else without explicit permission from the original creator.


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